Sense of Love
by brumal
Summary: Drabble collection of long and short stories mainly revolving around SasuNaruSasu with a TINY bit of NaruSaku . Random situations, plotlines, and ages are abound, including some spinoffs from my own stories. ..SasuNaruSasu, SLIGHT NaruSaku, Drabbles..
1. Chapter 1

**Drabble collection: **A series of short (and maybe not-so-short) stories revolving _mainly _around SasuNaruSasu with a hint of NaruSaku at times. They can range from being in the canon plotline or AU. They can be as young or old, depending on my mood. But no matter _what_ setting it is in, this drabble collection will _never_ exceed the rating of "T." Please watch out for manga spoilers, though I will keep mind to pre-warn you.

Most, if not all of these stories are inspired by sensory feelings and a few scattered emotions.

**A/N: Sorry if I don't reply to your reviews quickly! isn't working properly and sending me the alerts.**

Beta-read by Nadramon.

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**1. Sleeping on Sunbeams**

It was quite bright in the room, enough to make you see red behind your eyelids, heavy and drunken with remnants of sleep. Tightly closed eyelids that attempted to ward off the sun's incessant brightness hid underneath heavy sheets. Ah, this was better. Total darkness. Granted, a bit stuffy and too warm, but darkness at last.

He sighed happily in the thick warmness of the blanket. How wonderful it was to just lie there without a care in the world, the slightly rough surface of cotton scratching against his cheek. He was comfortably curled up and was already joining his dreams again.

Another few minutes would be good enough….

There was a loud, muffled thump on the floor, as if something was dropped down on it. The lump on the bed did not shift or move at the noise. For a few seconds, nothing but silence drifted to the floor.

"Naruto," a voice called out sternly.

The lump made a weird noise in acknowledgement. Sounded like someone trying to talk with a voice they hadn't used all night.

"Naruto," the voice ordered. "I need to change the sheets, you lazy bum."

But the lump didn't make any more noise or movement in accordance to the demands.

There were a few light, soft steps over the wooden floor in indication of the owner of the voice walking over to the bed. Suddenly, there was a sharp yank at the top of the fluffy blanket and all darkness and warmth was literally torn away.

With a small noise of discomfort, the lump, now revealed as a sleepy Naruto, curled up in the fetal position and tried to shield his eyes from the burning rays of the ten o'clock sun. He refused to open his eyes and blindly grabbed with his hands for the stolen blanket. Prickling cold pinched and stung at his skin.

"Give it back, you jerk," he murmured sleepily, already drifting back into sleep. "Stupid Sasuke..." he sighed and covered his face with a hand.

Sasuke, on his part, did not react much, besides the low muttering of, "Lazy idiot…. Skipped your turn for laundry…." He tossed the dirty sheets on the floor and hefted a still-warm blanket from the laundry basket. He shook it once or twice before throwing it over the bed, effectively covering Naruto in the process. Leisurely, he walked around the edges of the bed to fix the blanket, pulling here, tugging there.

Unconsciously, Naruto's body uncurled slightly and took a deep breath of the newly laundered blanket. It was even more fluffy and heavenly than the one that Sasuke had stolen away from him. Lingering warmth seeped into his own clothing, making him deliciously comfortable.

Sasuke ran his hand lightly over the mysterious lump hidden under the freshly dried blanket until he felt Naruto's head. He pulled the blankets away from the blond's face and pried the idiot's hand away from his face. With a gruff sort of softness, Sasuke tucked the hem of the blanket under Naruto's chin and eased the pillow so that his head was on it. He pushed back Naruto's messy hair and ran his thumb along his hairline.

Sasuke watched as Naruto's eyebrows furrowed slightly and his lips started moving, but no sound came out. Sasuke didn't doubt that Naruto was cursing him in his sleeping state. He let his hand rest tangled in the blond hair for another second before moving away.

He picked up the blanket on the floor and went to the laundry room to wash it.

How he hated doing the laundry….

**2. Smeared Glass**

Small fingers and palms pressed greasily onto the cold surface of once-spotless glass. Not soon after that, a dirty forehead and a smudge of a nose joined the hands. The glass's torture didn't end there. A large puff of warm breath misted over its surface and fogged it up.

Blue eyes blinked, amazed, out the messy window. Blond eyelashes lightly scraped across the glass as he did so. It was strangely white and bright outside. The usual blue of the sky was bleached to a pure, blinding white. Naruto wondered if it would rain later in the day.

He shifted slightly on the couch, his knees sinking into the plushy, over-stuffed cushion. Suddenly, he felt someone plop down next to him, causing the couch to dip in even further. He almost toppled over at the uneven weight displacement. He looked to his right, to see who it was.

Sasuke pressed his hands against the glass, right next to Naruto. "What are you looking at?" he asked.

The small blond grinned happily. "The sky, duh," he answered before turning his chubby cheek against the cool glass again.

"Oh," the Uchiha replied, looking at Naruto for a brief second before looking out again. Suddenly, he looked at his hand and the faint white outline misting around it. He lifted his tiny hand away, watching the white fade away. He blinked curiously.

"I think it'll rain, Sasuke," Naruto proclaimed solemnly.

"Uhn," the boy agreed absentmindedly.

The blond smiled lightly and closed his eyes. He pushed his face further onto the glass, making more of his skin touch the glass. It was like touching ice without so much harshness. It felt chillingly good against his face and hands. Every now and again, he would move a little bit to feel more coolness because the glass warmed up.

He felt his breath skitter over the surface, slowly condensing into slight droplets. For a minute or two, Naruto stayed like that, moving his face over the glass, until someone clapped his hands against his cool cheeks and dragged him away.

"You're dirtying the glass, stupid," Sasuke chided him, eyebrows furrowed in what would be a famous Uchiha glare in a few years.

Naruto only grinned back cheerfully.

**3. Detergent Nap**

Naruto was, at the moment, the most comfortable man in the world. Sitting on a nice, comfy couch, leaning on the pillows, almost half-asleep. His mouth was opening slightly as his jaw slackened. His hands were carelessly thrown on his lap as he napped.

He hadn't meant to fall asleep in the middle of the afternoon, especially since he had to get the laundry out of the dryer promptly, but it was just too warm and it made him drowsy. Granted, if he woke up too late the laundry would most definitely get crumpled. Then Sasuke would get rather upset and yell at him for being so absentminded.

But for now, he allowed himself the indulgence of simply sitting there and to listen to the nonexistent din of the house. Slowly, he faded into unconsciousness. There was a gap in time of unknowingness, of nothingness, and of darkness. It could have been a few minutes or even an hour before the prickling sense of awakening prodded Naruto gently.

He sensed someone approaching him, though he still wasn't just awake enough to move and see who it was. Besides that, they probably would not bother him anyways. He unconsciously took in a deep breath of air and settled back into a light sleep.

Something warm and lightweight draped over his shoulders. There was the heavenly light scent of detergent wafting from the thing. Naruto's body perceived it as a rough, scratchy blanket even in its sleeping state.

Softly, he murmured something incoherently when large hands came to his shoulders and tucked the blanket behind him. His breathing quickened slightly and took in more of the smell.

His eyes moved behind closed lids and his arms moved almost mechanically in his blurried sleep, his hands still covered with the blanket. The blond gripped the wrists of those hands and held on tightly through the fuzzy cotton of the fabric.

The body froze momentarily before relaxing. A defeated sigh escaped from its lips.

"Let go now," came a dull, uninterested voice.

Naruto opened his eyes into slits, catching the glimpse of a white, button-up shirt and closed his eyes again. "No," he said stubbornly and yanked on the wrists, causing the softly abrasive fabric to slide against pale skin. "… Sasuke."

The Uchiha fell easily into Naruto's lap, not actually resisting at all. He shifted a bit so that his knees rested on either side of Naruto's lap and pressed his forehead lightly against the blond's.

Naruto's hands let go of Sasuke's wrists and wriggled out from underneath the thin blanket. "Thanks for taking out the laundry…" he smiled sleepily, eyes still closed.

"Idiot," Sasuke replied under his breath and pressed his dry lips against Naruto's.

They moved slightly, kissing chastely, the blanket crumpling into a ball between them. Naruto opened his mouth and prodded his tongue into Sasuke's. He sucked lightly on Sasuke's lower lip and started to yank gently on his hair.

"Nngh," Sasuke grunted, when Naruto began to pull too hard. He changed the angle of their kiss and pushed harder against Naruto's body, squeezing his shoulders firmly. His own tongue prodded into Naruto's mouth and he slid it over the blond's. He pulled back a bit and swallowed before lightly kissing Naruto's wet lips.

They did this twice more, making soft, wet noises, before Naruto leaned forward possessively and forced his tongue back into Sasuke's mouth. He ran over his teeth and sighed lightly. He felt a strange, rough sensation running along his abdomen along with a tickling sensation.

Sasuke felt Naruto's tongue retreat back into his own mouth and a grin begin to form. He rubbed his fingers more teasingly against Naruto's sides, feeling the blond giggle and shudder laughingly. He took the advantage of Naruto's helplessness and kissed him on the cheeks and eyelids.

"S-Stop," Naruto hissed out between giggles, eyes clenched tightly together, a grin stretching his face.

Finally, Sasuke allowed his long fingers to rest gently against Naruto's stomach and nestled his nose on the juncture of the blond's neck and shoulder. He inhaled deeply, shifting slightly on Naruto's lap.

Naruto copied his actions and buried his face into Sasuke's shirt. He turned his face slightly and pressed his moist lips against Sasuke's neck, breathing lightly. His arms wrapped around his waist and he pulled the Uchiha closer to him.

Warm crinkling sounded as Naruto began to sniff at Sasuke's just-out-of-the-dryer shirt. The rumbling of Naruto's voice travelled through their touching chests as they sat there.

"You smell really good, Sasuke…."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I hope you guys enjoy the fluff for as long as it lasts. Knowing me… well…. It might not last too long….**

**Beta-read by Nadramon**

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**4. Two O'Clock Bird**

It wasn't because of the blankets carefully pooled around him, concentric circles deformed by folds and ridges. It wasn't because of the soft mattress sinking underneath him, molding against his legs and feet. It wasn't because of the heavy, even breathing that could have been heard from behind him, continuing like a slow clock whispering sighs. It wasn't because of the empty din and promise of the world outside, a wispy silent voice speaking. It wasn't because of the fluttering moths with their indistinct paths, going every which way.

It wasn't because of that that he couldn't fall asleep.

It was the two o'clock bird.

He had named it the two o'clock bird.

And here, perched against the side of the open window, his hands grasping the sill, not paying heed to the dust that had collected there after years of neglect, he sat. His fingers would be brown with dirtiness.

He sat with his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open, tongue curled at the tip as if tasting the song of his secret lover. His blond eyelashes fanned out against his cheeks and he pressed his eyes together tighter, feeling amused by the feeling. Slowly, his relaxed lips twitched upwards.

The moon was a thin thread in the purplish-navy blue fabric of sky. Stars stood by her, as if the needle that had sewn the moon in had punctured the fragile cloth, leaving pinpoints of nothingness.

And it was two o'clock in the morning.

The song was never-ending; a forever song, a listen-to-me-and-sing-with-me song, a stay-with-me song. The notes that trilled, fell and twirled, dipped and skittered, cracked and froze over… an illusion of something physical held. It was a song pieced together by the two o'clock bird by carefully eavesdropping on the twittering and griping tales of the day birds.

It had bossy, angry chattering. It had soft coos and purrs. It had shrieks and laments. It had sharp attacks and war cries.

It was a dream of the day sounds.

He never saw the two o'clock bird, but only listened. Listened to it change and perfect his song, repeating bits and fragments, singing, singing, singing. He imagined that the two o'clock bird would be dark and drab, nothing out of the ordinary. He imagined that he would be large and a mess of browns and beiges dabs of acrylic on thin paper, smearing and tearing.

So he pressed his eyes closer together and imagined.

Suddenly, the deep breathing behind him quickened slightly and there was a following silence.

He opened his eyes and turned around slowly.

"Sorry," he murmured quietly. "Did I wake you?"

Sleepy dark eyes stared back. There was not a response for a while. "No," came the low, rumbling voice. It came from deep in his chest and reverberated. He breathed in deeply and let the air rush out. Heavy eyes blinked languidly at the dark silhouette in front of him. "What are you still doing up? It's late."

A bright grin, gentle and reassuring, was given. He didn't respond but turned back to the window instead.

The bed shifted, creaked a bit as one of them sat up and wrapped his arms around the blond's naked torso. "Naruto," he mumbled into his neck.

"Shh," he responded, shushing him gently. He placed his hands, chilled by the night wind lured in by the open window, onto the warm ones encircling his body. "Listen," he commanded, leaning back on the bare chest behind him for support.

The two o'clock bird twittered gleefully, making his notes dip and fly, reminiscent of small chickadees swooping down a pool of water for a brief drink. He wasn't aware of his new audience, but continued to do what he loved doing most: sing.

"No one ever listens to him," he said, resting his head against a mop of tousled black hair. He couldn't see it right now, but he was sure his lover's hair was sticking up on the side where he was sleeping on. Wispy bangs that usually hid black eyes splayed out on his shoulder, tickling his skin. "But—"

"You do."

The blond smiled lightly and chuckled. "Aah." He lifted his right arm and reached back until he could tangle his fingers into the blue-black hair he was so accustomed to. "I do…."

When he felt rough fingers pull and yank on his hair gently, he leaned in to the touch. He lifted his lips from the blond's neck and opened his eyes.

"Go to sleep, loser," he muttered, the deep tenor travelling through their touching bodies. Then he simply dragged the blond down and with his arms, not allowing any more reaction to come out of the blond than a small cough that was the result of him being pushed back onto the mattress forcefully. He prevented any further movement by falling asleep with half his body crushing the other man's.

His breathing was a bit more difficult now that his lover was sleeping on him. His scars were stretched minutely as he smiled more to himself than anything. His fingers were still rubbing small circles in the brunet's scalp as he began to fall asleep.

The two o'clock bird had stopped singing.

**5. Voice of Reasoning (Spinoff from **_**Phone Calls from Nobody**_ **)**

"_My name is Uchiha Sasuke."_

Listen—the voice of reasoning. Of everything.

"_There are tons of things that I dislike but I don't really like anything."_

Does he lie?

He can't hear anything but that voice…. That voice he had heard for many years and grown accustomed to—only to have it disappear forever.

It was accompanied by a malicious darkness. And he couldn't see, or feel, or taste, or smell. Only hear. Hear everything with a clarity that seemed artificial.

"_Are you okay… scaredy-cat?"_

Yes. He was.

But he couldn't admit to that. No way in Earth. In Hell. Or in Heaven.

No way.

"_Naruto—I want to fight you too."_

Sometimes he wondered what was going on in that head of his.

But he was so excited in that moment. To be considered an equal was…. But there were no words to describe it. It was like a goal he had been thriving to reach since forever had finally been fulfilled.

Acknowledgement.

_Look at me! Notice me!_

But from who, he always wondered.

"_I used to hate you, too_."

It was like a plague that never left him. A drifting cloud of uneasiness. _Used_ to? But should that mean anything? Should it have any other meaning? Were they friends?

Friends?

… what are friends?

"_Naruto… I—"_

Had he ever heard this before? It was like the thin drumming, strumming, humming of rain falling down from a too-bleak, too-white, too-cold sky. The fragment he never heard. But he dreams of it.

What was the rest of the sentence?

"_Naruto, huh?"_

He couldn't help but notice that it had grown a lot deeper than he had last heard it. And he couldn't do anything but stand and stare.

How could he stand there like that? Like he didn't care?

Did he care?

"_I'll never go back_."

It stung.

It stung like no wound he ever received. It didn't even sting as badly as the time he had his chest punctured straight through. No less by _his_ hand.

He didn't want to believe those words.

But as the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months… years—trickled by, he could do nothing else than to believe those words.

And now he couldn't remember if he had cried coming back home and picking up the phone—

to be greeted by silence.

How come he could still remember a voice he had not heard for so long? He could still recall the deep rumbling of that voice as clear as if he had been whispering in his ear. Not as if he had ever done that….

However…. However, it was so perfectly there. A voice he doubts he could ever, ever forget.

Never.

And then came the creeping sensation of remembrance.

The cobwebs of something.

Anything.

"_Congratulations. Dead last._"

"Sasuke!"

He bolted upright in his bed, shirt sticking to him wetly. His hair was plastered messily over his forehead as he gasped and clutched at his chest. It hurt—

And suddenly, there was the faint, veiled sounds from his real world reaching his ears.

A soft feminine voice and the shrieking, wailing, crying of a child.

But he couldn't hear those. It felt like cotton was shoved in his head and prevented him from hearing all those things in his real world.

All he could hear was the low voice of someone that had left him.

Left him and everyone else.

His eyes were wide but unseeing. His subconscious saw the thin trickles of the early dawn peeking through the translucent drapes, the baby crib in the corner of their room, the concerned green eyes of his wife, the soft pink hair that clung worriedly to her face.

"Naruto—Naruto, are you okay? Naruto, you've scared the baby awake now…."

And he started to sob and grasp emptily as if his hands could pull back the tendrils of dreams he had so long ago.

"_Naruto… I—I'm sorry."_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: In advance, I apologize for being inactive for so long. School has hit me by surprise…. Anyways, please consider me as under a hiatus until further notice!**

**Beta-read by Nadramon. (Love you dear, you're always so awesome.)**

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**6. Bright Lights**

It occurred to Sasuke at this moment, as he tripped and slipped on the damp grass, that he might have been better off had he chosen the wiser option to have said "No" to Naruto that afternoon in the library.

He had been perfectly unbothered when he was sitting inside of the quiet building after school. Many people were occupying it as usual. Everyone was situated at the tables in groups of three or four and had piles of books surrounding them, buildings of ink and binding. There was a sort of excited murmuring around the place, hushed but loud at the same time. It gave a feeling of a comfortable din.

Due to a project that one of their professors gave, Sasuke and his group were working about studiously, barely speaking to each other except out of necessity. He himself was carefully leafing through his notes and going between several books in front of him. His group, solely intimidated by the Uchiha's infamous temper, obediently did their research and wrote down notes.

The dark haired individual nonchalantly noted that another louder, less productive group was quite near. They seemed to be more interested in idle chat than whatever they should have been working on; the way they tossed pieces of balled up papers at each other or prodded each other with the dull side of their pencils. He frowned disdainfully at his paper when he noted their inadequacy at work.

Every few minutes, the packed library would gain a few more occupants. A pair of giggling girls, one or two stragglers following behind, once or twice a professor. The seats at the desks were quickly filled up and stock on the shelves dwindled. It was a first come, first serve basis.

But as the day dragged on, the students began to trickle out of the library. Some were needed elsewhere, at home to do other homework, to assist with dinner, to pick up other siblings. Sasuke had no such necessities. His homework was always dutifully done at a brisk pace, dinner was made whenever he felt like it, and he was an only child; or so he would always claim.

Eventually, his own group slowly left, leaving him there by himself and the books.

A strained sort of silence seemed to place itself comfortably over the thin air of the library after some time. Still, Sasuke paid no heed to it. He would leave whenever the librarian deemed it too late for them to stay.

Suddenly, Sasuke noted that the environmental sounds of the building shifted, as if someone was standing in front of him. He looked up and peered through his bangs. There was indeed someone standing in front of him.

"What?" he asked in a monotone voice, though it was hard to miss the slight exasperation and near anger laced in it.

The person in front of him was not an unfamiliar one. In fact, they were so familiar with each other, it became of a nuisance.

Tanned fingers ran through his haphazardly combed hair and his blue eyes seemed to avert Sasuke's dark ones. His mouth was stretched out thinly, almost like a toad, across his face. Some loose-leaf papers and a few notebooks were tucked under his left arm. His pressed shirt was no longer pressed, but wrinkled to a heap of folds and his tie was unceremoniously tugged apart. And certainly, his shirt was not tucked in either.

Naruto shifted uneasily from foot to foot, obviously trying to delay something. Whatever "something" was. He pulled and tugged at his open collar and seemed to look anywhere and everywhere in the room except for Sasuke.

"Hey, um…. There's something I want to show you," he said to the floor.

Sasuke agitatedly closed the book he was looking at and pushed away the papers in front of him in an over-exaggerated motion of giving the blond his full and undivided attention. A crease on his forehead clearly showed his displeasure. He showed his hands, palms up, to the blond as if asking him, "Now what?"

"Oh! No, you—you'll need to follow me…." A hand flew to the back of his neck to rub nervously.

Sasuke absentmindedly wondered if the idiot wanted to take him to some obscure alley and kill him for some reason or other. Really, he reprimanded himself, he had been immersing himself in too many murder mystery novels as of late.

It was at this precise moment that Sasuke regretted in answering "Fine," instead of his default "No," to everything.

Some way or another, Sasuke had everything swiftly packed up in his bag (with the help from Naruto, who kindly put everything in the wrong place) and was walking out of the library in less than five minutes. Naruto had led him to some dark, shady corner of the campus, where they met no one along the way.

It would be an understatement to say that their campus was a small one, so after a good half hour of trekking in the dark, aided with only a few tall lamps to illuminate the way, Sasuke grew even more agitated. He had wanted to finish his project, his bag was heavy, and he was hungry. Where was Naruto taking him? And they still hadn't reached their destination.

Suddenly, Sasuke noted that the even clamping noise of shoes on concrete became the soft crunching of wet grass. He slipped slightly on the dampness. Slowly, he felt the leg of his pants getting wet with dew. It started to annoy him that the fabric clung onto his legs and began to wet his socks too.

"It's just over here," Naruto reassured him slightly. He glanced back at the Uchiha uncertainly but plowed on straight ahead confidently. He was not completely oblivious to Sasuke's growing discomforts.

A small growl, nearly inaudible, slipped from Sasuke's throat.

Abruptly, Naruto stopped, forcing Sasuke to immediately halt, somehow decreasing the distance between them to a mere six centimeters. Naruto quickly stumbled back to get out of Sasuke's personal space. He muttered a vague noise that Sasuke chose to interpret as an apology.

"Um, wait," he said indecisively. "Close your eyes first." He began to fiddle with his sleeve nervously, as if fearing that Sasuke might not want to.

"What?" Sasuke grated out. He hardly trusted the blond with where he was leading him, but now he had to _close his eyes_? This time, he gave his default reply to him. "_No_."

"No, come on, just this… once. Okay? Please? Come on," Naruto pressed firmly and annoyingly. A step forward forced Sasuke to take a step back.

For a half a second, he had the want to just turn around and abandon this foolish "adventure" he was going on. There was no reason for him to need to follow Naruto to some wild goose chase. All he had to do was turn around and walk. Just walk away. No matter how unfamiliar the environment seemed, all he needed to do was to go inside of a building and ask for directions to somewhere he was familiar with. It wasn't hard.

An oddly steely blue gaze pierced into him. He couldn't stand the look of it. Sasuke clenched his eyes shut.

A breathy sigh of relief escaped from Naruto's mouth. "Alright, I'm going to grab your arm," he told him a second before conducting the action. Sasuke involuntarily flinched at the unfamiliar contact on his arm. That was hardly any time for him to even react to the announcement. "Let's walk."

The Uchiha blindly stumbled in the dark. He still had time to escape from this infernal annoyance. He could just open his eyes. Simple as that. But he didn't. To his own chagrin, he didn't. He continued to be led by the blond without another sound of complaint.

He felt that they were steadily going uphill, but still had no idea as to where they were heading to. Perhaps he should have asked Naruto in advance before they began to walk to some isolated place. This seemingly simple night left Sasuke regretting quite a lot of things.

The grip on his arm was gentle, but firm. Though it was an awkward procession up a hill, it was calm enough. Sasuke did not like the feeling of such helplessness. He didn't know where they were going, or for how long, or even see where they were going. In all honesty, if Naruto wanted to _kill_ him, he could. And there was nothing Sasuke could have done in time to prevent it.

Sasuke didn't know how long they walked for after that, but he could just feel the minutes trickle by. He would not be surprised if they'd been out here for at least an hour and a half. What a waste of life.

But just as he was about to open his eyes and yell at Naruto for wasting his time, he felt Naruto's hand tighten on his arm and a small intake of breath get sucked in.

"Okay," he heard Naruto say, "we're here. You can open your eyes now."

Sasuke did so. Naruto's hand fell away from his arm. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see the blond grinning happily at him, and watching him for some sort of a reaction.

"Well?"

Dark eyes gazed out at the scene in front of him, his eyebrows still firmly pinched together.

They had indeed climbed up a slippery, grassy hill and were now situated quite high up. The city was clear in view, and overhead, the stars greeted them with their twinkling smiles. Specks of white, yellow, and blue lights glittered from the buildings underneath. Running like glowing threads were red and white streams of cars.

"Isn't it beautiful?" the blond asked somewhat breathlessly, tinged with a bit of pride. The way he said it, it was almost as if he owned the view.

Sardonic as he is, Sasuke plainly replied, "What? The pollution? I think not."

"Jerk, that's not what I meant!" Naruto ejaculated heatedly. His hands fisted together and his mouth was once more drawn in a look of distaste. But instead of starting a fist-fight as he usually did, he swept his arm out in the direction of the city. "This! This is what I'm talking about!"

He took a few steps forward toward the sparkling, artificial lights. The anger seemed to slip away from him as he gazed at the view again. He sighed heavily.

"When I'm up here, it feels like… I don't know, really, what it feels like. Just really good. Like nothing bad can happen." He paused for a long second, as if waiting, or daring, Sasuke to say something. "I know that sounds stupid and childish, but that's just what I think. Sometimes, that's all I really want to think. That nothing bad will ever happen…."

Sasuke listened impassively and watched the silhouette of the blond as he talked. His hair was ruffled by the cold wind that passed by. It was then when Sasuke absently noted that neither of them had jackets on and that it would get steadily colder as time passed.

"I mean… I mean, that's why I brought you up here…." Naruto turned back to Sasuke, looking at him with a calm expression. Something flickered in his eyes. Uncertainty? Anxiousness? What was it?

Sasuke was never good at deciphering emotions. He himself barely ever showed any.

But then… something inside of Sasuke clicked together and something akin to panic roused itself. More than ever now, he wanted to run. But an extreme sense of exhaustion overwhelmed him and he found that deep inside, he didn't want to run away. He was tired.

That's why, he realized now, he hadn't said, "No," to Naruto when they were in the library. That's why he hadn't walked away when he had been told to close his eyes. That's why he hadn't—hadn't done so many things that he had wanted to do. He fancied that Naruto would want to kill him by taking him to some dark, dreary place off the campus, but he knew that wasn't true.

There were a lot of things about himself that he didn't understand. Why he always hated everyone, but never went out of his way to avoid Naruto. Why he always seemed to unconsciously seek to get in a fight with Naruto, no matter how petty it was. Why he always wanted to prove himself to no one except Naruto….

He saw now, that to many, he was an enigma. And to himself, he was still a mystery. But something seemed to resolve itself in this moment.

He stood firmly and looked Naruto in the eye, waiting to see what he had to say.

"I like you."

**7. Namesake**

It was a lazy gaze of grey eyes out the window, slowly blinking whenever it pleased him. It was a warm and sunny spot near the window, and he was perfectly content to just lie there. His ears were perked up and swiveled around occasionally to catch small murmurs and snatches of noise. Underneath him, neatly tucked, were his paws, curled and perfect. A long tail pressed itself primly against his side. Occasionally the very tip of it twitched.

There was a small noise behind him, and his ears immediately snapped back to hear what it was. He was contemplating on whether or not it would be wise to look behind him.

But then, without warning, there was something pouncing on him and he yowled defensively a blood-curdling screech. He tumbled onto his stomach to claw at whatever it was. He batted several times at the blob of fur on top of him, growling warningly in his throat. A bad position to be in, he realized, and flipped back onto his feet immediately.

His sharp eyes caught the shape of his attacker.

_Naruto_. He growled again, backing away. Despite himself, Sasuke's fur was all puffed up and standing on end. His claws protruded slightly, but not enough to be harmful.

The other tabby looked amused at his appearance, opened his mouth, and meowed unattractively at his mate. Blue eyes peered inquiringly at him as he crouched down, a position that was clearly meant for more pouncing. His thick tail swished back and forth playfully, sweeping the floor.

Sasuke hissed, displeased. He crouched down as well, his tail fluffed up angrily behind him. It was obvious that he wasn't in the mood to play. Spitting furiously didn't seem to put Naruto off. The orange tabby lunged.

Again, Sasuke found himself being pinned down by the other and was forced into a bout of "playful" wrestling. He didn't have his claws out, but repeatedly pawed and batted at the other cat's head and ears.

_Get off me!_ the actions clearly said, but were completely ignored. Screeches and growls became more vicious as the dark cat grew irritated.

For some more seconds, the two cats battled vigorously until Sasuke got a well-aimed swipe right across Naruto's nose. The tabby scuttled away with a wounded noise. Sasuke hissed at him one last time for good measure. He completely ignored the orange ball of fur as he moodily walked back to his warm window spot and sat there to preen himself. His fur was all messed up now. A hostile air wavered from him as he groomed himself tediously. He licked himself vigorously until his fur stood out in wet tufts.

In the background, Naruto curled in on himself, upset at the fact that Sasuke had caught him on the nose. What a party-pooper, he said to himself. He thought it was rather fun to wrestle. But Sasuke _never_ wanted to play. He shook himself dejectedly and sat up to watch his mate smooth his fur out. Maybe he'd better give him some time before attempting to apologize…. He crouched down unhappily and waited.

Such a boring task, grooming, but Sasuke was always very careful about it. First the paws, then the face… the face again… and for good measures, the face. Base of the tail, the tail, oh, it twitched. He bit the end of his own tail slightly only to realize that… it was his. He released the fur and resumed his grooming.

As Sasuke sat up and lifted his paw to lick his chest, Naruto wandered over meekly and pressed his forehead against his chin. The action nearly made the cat lose his balance and roll over backwards. Sasuke hopped a step and regained his composure, but then another hard rub accompanied by a hearty purr pushed him overboard and he landed clumsily on his side. An airy "pafth" sounded as the cat landed heftily onto the ground. Naruto tottered uncertainly but was able to stay standing.

While Sasuke was still slightly out of his sudden fall, Naruto took the advantage to start grooming the grumpy cat. He ran his rough tongue over Sasuke's ears and over his forehead, a spot that the dark cat was especially sensitive to. And against his chagrin, the beginnings of a purr began to trickle from deep inside his throat. Sasuke immediately stopped and swatted the tabby away. He sat up primly and blocked himself away from his pest.

Not to be discouraged, Naruto purred appealingly to Sasuke and tried rubbing up against his side again.

Nope. Not working.

He was about to try again when suddenly, two hands wrapped around his midriff and pulled him upwards. He let out a squeak of a meow at the sudden contact. Fluidly, he wriggled around and twisted until he was pressed against a broad chest and properly supported. A large hand stroked over his head and an automatic purr came from his throat. Never mind that Sasuke. He was too much trouble anyways—at least, it was as long as there was someone petting him.

Naruto's ears perked up happily when he heard his owner laugh cheerfully.

"I think Sasuke deserves his name, don't you think, Sasuke?" the blond looked happily at the Uchiha: the cat's namesake.

"I think you're an idiot for naming two cats after ourselves," Sasuke replied flatly. He leaned his cheek against his hand and watched him with an utterly bored expression.

Naruto raised his eyebrows and gave him a weird look. "See what I mean?" He stuck his tongue out at his lover.

"Hn," the brunet huffed indifferently. He honestly thought that Naruto was an idiot. It felt retarded to call "Sasuke" and "Naruto" for dinner every night. And it felt as if he was talking in third person when he was referring to his cat.

The blond walked noiselessly over to Sasuke and dropped Naruto onto his lap. Sasuke looked a bit shocked at the abrupt, fluffy weight disposed on him. The cat didn't waste any time to curl comfortably on his lap and wait to be loved and petted. With a huff, Sasuke began to stroke the cat grudgingly.

Naruto strolled over to the dark cat, sitting forlornly in front of the window. He still seemed upset at his attack and was effectively ignoring the world as he continued his grooming. As the tabby was interrupted, Sasuke was like-wise picked up and cuddled. He made a strangled noise from the back of his throat.

A laugh came from Naruto's chest again as he rubbed his nose carefully onto Sasuke's. He pressed his face against Sasuke's side and murmured, "You're both so easily bothered…."

**8. Love Me Blindly—I Can't See You**

Three indents. One—two—three. Down the cheeks, towards the jaw. They barely dipped down below the skin, but his sensitive fingers could feel them.

Dry lips, always dry. They moved and breaths of air whispered past cold fingers. The slightly sharp edge of a piece of skin caught onto his nail and he moved away slightly.

Up the face the fingers trailed, over fluttering eyelids, closing before rough fingers could touch. Carefully, they brushed over his eyelashes before going up higher. A thumb pressed tentatively over the firm crease knit together by his eyebrows. He left his thumb there a bit longer, rubbing back and forth until they slowly unfolded themselves. He knew that as soon as he moved his fingers away from that spot, the crease would return.

His palms tingled with warmth as they slid down to cup his cheeks. And like a feline, he felt his hands being nuzzled almost tenderly. Deft fingers suddenly wrapped around his wrists and he had the urge to pull away quickly. Rough hands prevented him from doing so and pulled them even closer to his face.

No escape.

And all of a sudden, his cold hands flushed with heat. He felt static running up his fingertips—they're being kissed. He had the sudden foolish thought: _Are my fingers salty? _

Something was being mumbled into his hands, words caught like water trickling through a sieve. He didn't want to understand them, and so his brain took in the words and distorted them. Now he couldn't understand. Vibrations. That's all. Just vibrations.

They buzzed away slipping past his senses as quickly as they had assaulted.

There was a sting of cold air as his wrists were released and the heat went away. It quickly relocated to the back of his neck. He felt the fingers press hard, forcing him to fall forward, his face angled awkwardly with clumsy guiding.

Then—there. A puff of breath across his face. Always a puff of breath before it was pressed against his lips hurriedly. It was a game of "catch the air."

A smudge of something hard on his cheek. Oh—that must have been his nose. The hands went up to pull at his hair and it hurt—just a bit. Not too bad and he's felt worse. The insistent moving and shifting of the lips against his own was enough to null the stinging of his scalp.

He moved his mouth to correspond to the urging, a bit mechanically. The only thing he did was standing still and listening to the small noises that their lips made as they pulled back and pressed back together. It was almost disgusting to hear them.

His body was flushed with his partner's and it was hot. Discreetly, he tried to back away but just as he felt the contact spark away, it was there again. And this time it was even more needy and desperate. The pressure applied to him nearly made him hurt.

_Don't go away. Not again. _

He couldn't run away from the touches.

By tilting his head back, he was able to break away from the suffocating kiss. But then they're dropped on his cheeks and nose, half on his mouth again, smeared on his forehead. All over his face and neck.

He grasped and tugged, trying to slip away. It was terrible—this kissing, this hugging, this _everything_.

There was a strange, half-cut off noise that was sucked into his lungs when he felt himself falling backwards: pushed.

It didn't hurt as much as he thought it would when he landed. Then he realized that he had fallen on the bed. An impulse made him scoot away, backwards, farther. But then his back hit the wall and he was trapped again.

He was being attacked again and he couldn't breathe. Not through his mouth or nose. It was difficult. His head was being forced against the wall and he couldn't speak with two tongues in the same mouth. A tickling sensation ran along his neck as a bead of sweat made its laborious journey down the back of his neck.

Again, there were vibrations. He didn't want to hear them and he wouldn't understand.

Something that felt like sandpaper dragged over his face, feeling and touching. He bit at one of the tendrils of sandpaper. It tasted salty.

Then all motion stopped and he wondered why. But he's relieved. Maybe he would be left alone now.

But no.

His shield was being stripped away, a cumbersome armor as flimsy as tracing paper. He twisted and turned, a lame attempt to stop the invasion, the tearing away. Yet there was no relenting. A piece of nothingness that had always hidden him away from the truth. And soon, his protection was taken away.

Naruto hovered over Sasuke's body, anguished. His face was contorted in an ugly way, each muscle standing out starkly. His mouth was the only soft part of his expression. A half-parted pant, a last desperate plea. His hand held the strip of white cloth that Sasuke always had tied around his eyes.

He was almost shocked to see that the Uchiha had had his eyes open the entire time. He stared back pleadingly into them.

His fingers curled angrily around the whiteness in his hands.

Nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

**WARNINGS: **_**May or may not**_** contain character death(s). ****Please read at your own risk****. Thank you.**

**Beta-read by Nadramon.**

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**8. Listen, and So Will I  
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He sat on the side of the bridge with his hands clasped between his knees, teasingly close to the gaping edge, which fell off to the lake below it. There were tall reeds and short grasses near the edge of the lake, waving uncertainly in the wind, first this way and that, as if torn between two decisions; Wind's persuasion was strong, especially on the weak of mind.

There was moss growing where the shore met the waves with gentle embraces, repeated hundreds upon thousands of times throughout the day and night. The two lovers could not ever fulfill their need of each other, being dragged apart almost as quickly as they came together. Fish would dart around the water's surface, cautiously shooting forward and stopping before going forward again. Bubbles popped from their curious mouths, opening in a perpetually shocked—yet emotionless—expression.

And there he was, with his legs dangling over the side of the wooden bridge, the dark denim nearly passing his heels in its ragged length. The bridge's fibers were so soft and rotted with time and age that anyone could have started peeling off splinters with their blunt nails, if they so choose. It was like soggy cardboard on wet, misty days. Moss grew between the miniscule gaps of the bridge too.

The young man was _so_ close to the water's surface, mockingly clear and clean. If he were a little taller—or perhaps, if he leaned in a bit more—his toes would touch the strained glassy mirror. He wanted to break it and watch ripples explode from the point of contact. Alas, he could not, due to the bridge's distance from the water and his height, which was sadly only a handful of centimeters too short.

Unable to release the lake of its sleepy spell, he resorted to staring at his reflection instead. He peered past his hands and parted knees to the surface below. The playful water was pleased to take on his guise and stretch his features into the most absurd shapes. Sometimes, his face broke, split by wind or wave; sometimes, it mashed up against itself; and still, sometimes, his mouth twisted up to his eyes, or ran away with locks of his hair. It was a fun game of mirrors to play for him.

Night was beginning its discreet takeover when footsteps fell upon the semi-rotted wood, sodden and putrid in sound, and made the man look up with curious eyes. In his mesmerized state, he had failed to take note of the passing time. Each day seemed so idle and ponderously long that Time no longer had control of his life. He would spiral toward madness soon, if it did not reclaim his soul again.

Goosebumps erupted up and down his arm—though he could not be sure as to whether or not they were previously there—when he saw who it was.

The new individual stopped a few steps away from the man, stared at him with dulled eyes, and took a seat next to him. They sat without speaking. The first young man turned away from his companion and resumed his increasingly difficult game with the lake; darkness was stealing away his reflection, and the moon was not yet in the sky to replace it. As he watched the face of the lake, his company, in turn, watched _his_ face.

It wasn't until the cattails bowed to their final performance that someone interrupted Silence's speech.

Their voice broke the spoken words and rendered them incoherent. The interruption didn't count. Both of them fell back into quietness.

Finally, when the first stars began glimmering in the sky, and the moon, silver thumbnail that it was, gleamed in the sky, someone dispelled Silence's enchantment.

"We need to go."

"Hmm."

And that was as far as they got before jealous Silence closed their throats again.

His companion placed his hand—oddly warm against his goose-pimpled skin—on his arm and pulled lightly. When his friend spoke, his breath urged the wind to steal it away, and their conversation parroted itself inanely.

"We need to _go_."

"Hmm."

There was a sigh of resignation, and the warm hand fell away and back to its owner's lap. It twisted itself with its partner and stilled.

"We can't stay here forever."

Liquid eyes—for there was no other way to describe them but molten and fluid—glanced at him out of their corners fleetingly, but no words were exchanged; it wasn't possible to communicate through eyes alone. Their gazes caught, like fabric on rough tree bark, before loosening and falling away. His friend continued to drill holes in the side of his head.

The water was so close to him. If the lake chose to swell but a few more centimeters up, he would be able to reach it with his toes. But he was cold, and he hated that.

"Come on….."

When there was no response, his friend stood up angrily and grabbed him by the shoulders. He jerked him up to his feet and nearly made him stumble into the lake with his sudden movements. There was a struggle with pushing arms and legs, grunts of animal origins, and curses of human origins. In the end, he held still by his companion's firm hands and was forced to stare directly in his eyes. He looked blindly into them as he clawed at his friend's side with blunt nails, mouth opened and twisted in a gross snarl. The fabric wouldn't give way, so he caught onto that and pulled. Suddenly, they were closer. His upper arms were squeezed tightly.

Their breaths—growls at this point—invaded each other's space, and bumped into their noses and lips. He tilted his head in challenge; to his surprise, so did his friend. His eyes were angry; both of their eyes were. The fires grew more vicious.

"We need to go." The words were pressed against the skin of his lips via infuriated breaths. Any other time and circumstance which could have found them in such a position and lust would have most certainly taken over.

Stilled seconds, too intrigued by their conversation to move on, stayed between them until one of them snarled furiously. His fingers released the fabric and turned from claws to palm to push against the chest almost touching his. There was stumbling, and they were apart again. The bridge was too small for the two of them.

"Then go." The acidity and brevity of his words dissolved holes in the decaying wood of the bridge.

"Not without you."

He said again: "Then go."

His friend reached out, this time with much more care and caution than when he forcefully yanked him up. Tentative fingers grasped his wrist and pulled back, so that their arms created a relaxed triangle between their bodies. Against the backdrop of night, their silhouettes stood still.

"I can't," was his companion's only reply. It was ludicrously calm and collected to his ears, so controlled and constrained.

His friend took a step away from the edge of the bridge, and he was likewise pulled like a magnet toward him. Another step urged him farther away from water and closer to land. He stumbled but did not fall.

"I don't want to go yet," his voice pleaded petulantly. At that brief second, he was no longer a young man, but a child who couldn't get what he wanted. The hand on his wrist created a tighter circlet and pulled harder,—but not harshly—and he shut up.

"You have to. You must," his friend urged. In reality, he only said it in flat monotone.

Eyes shining in the dark melted when he closed them and let out a light sigh, weighed with so many burdens. He stopped walking, and the hand on his wrist fell away, allowing his arm to return—pendulum swing by pendulum swing—back to its side. A whoosh of air was sucked into his mouth, and he tasted ash upon his tongue. Though he could not see, he felt his friend standing across from him directly. Their bodies were perpendicularly situated against the bridge; his back was to the water, and his friend was facing it.

When he opened his eyes again, he turned around and watched.

The water was bleeding itself to death, tainting clear crispness with tar. Ink ran across its surface and corrupted its image. He watched as the moss shriveled and died; the cattails burst into flames, released their cottony seed, and destroyed themselves inside-out; the waves boiled in sudden ire, shrinking away from the shore; and the fish died, turned over, and sank as bones.

"We have to go." His friend's dark eyes beckoned him, sooty with smears of grey. Dry lips caught wisps of smoke and tasted them. His blue-black hair was streaked with artificial grey.

A tear slipped past his eyes of molten azure; took some ash with it as it slid down his dirty, scarred cheek; and landed on his shirt, where it darkened the filthy material. The smoldering passion of flames burned his eyes and the grass around the lake.

Ash was on his tongue.

He gasped and choked, struggling to breathe.

Another tear fell, and he spoke.

"I know."


End file.
